Out of the Rubble
by catharticone
Summary: When disaster strikes on a small planet, Rose and the Doctor lend a hand. But the personal consequences may reach further than either anticipated...
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: "Doctor Who" is the property of the BBC, and no infringement is intended._

_Author's Note: Thanks, as always, to Sonic Jules for her unflagging support!_

* * *

The dust was thick and choking. Remnants of smoke did little to improve the air quality inside the collapsed cathedral. Still, Rose persevered. A small group of rescue workers was digging through the rubble to her left, revealing a narrow den between pews. A quick glance showed her that several more people had been found alive. That was good, she assured herself. The balance was still horribly skewed in favor of the dead, but even one life saved was cause for elation.

She'd helped dozens of people out of the rubble, gently guiding their shocked and broken bodies through the debris and outside to the relative safety beneath the open sky. The Doctor had assured her—had assured all the rescuers and the community leaders—that the next wave wouldn't come for seven hours. That had been over six hours ago. She checked her watch quickly to be sure, because really she had no objective sense of how much time had passed since she'd first entered the site of the disaster.

The TARDIS had picked up the surge of wayward ionic energy, and the Doctor had instructed the ship to follow it to this small planet. She remembered his grave expression, the tightness of his brow, as he tracked the wave and then landed. He'd known what sort of havoc it would wreak, and there'd been no grins, no smart comments as they exited the ship.

The devastation lay inexorably before them. The cathedral had taken the brunt of the hit; the Doctor explained briefly that the wave's energy was attracted to lead, and the church's massive stained glass windows had acted almost like a homing beacon. The surge of energy had slammed into the great building, shattering the glass and rupturing the walls in less than a second. Most of the town had been gathered inside, waiting for the council to enter. Some sort of community meeting had been planned, but Rose couldn't remember what the purpose was. It didn't matter, really, and she didn't stop to think about it.

The Doctor had gone off immediately with the Prime and his staff to inspect the power station. He'd told her that another wave was imminent, but that he might be able to redirect it if he could shift the power supply out to… Rose shook her head; she couldn't recall what he'd said. All she knew was that he would help, that he would prevent any more injuries or deaths.

He'd expected her to accompany him to the power facility, but Rose had realized instantly that she could provide more assistance with the rescue efforts. While her knowledge of emergency medicine and first aid was very limited, she knew that she could move through the rubble and lead people out. She could provide a hug or a reassuring hand, too. But most importantly, she had the determination to help.

Now she was moving toward a mound of timber and stone. She'd spotted a movement near the floor, in the little crack at the base of the pile. There was a noise, too, and it sounded like crying.

Rose had to squeeze through a narrow channel between the split poles and pieces of rock to get close enough to see. She turned sideways, judging the space sufficient if tight. She felt her shirt snag on the rough wood, and several edges of stone jabbed hard at her arms and ribs, but she continued on. The sobbing was louder now.

Once she reached the source, she slid down onto her belly and peered into the small opening. She moved her torch, aiming the beam into the dark little space. A diminutive face peered out at her. Large eyes stood out against the pale skin.

"Help," the child squeaked. His tiny hand stretched out, fingers just fitting through the crack.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Rose said, brushing her own fingers over his. "I'm gonna get you out."

She began to dig.

* * *

The Doctor's hands flew over the panels, and sparks arced through the air as he aimed the sonic screwdriver at wires and circuits. There were hundreds of new connections to be made, and time was of the essence. If he couldn't redirect the next wave, the entire town would be destroyed.

He had fleeting thoughts of Rose as he worked. He pictured her comforting the wounded, wrapping a soothing arm around the shoulders of those who had lost a spouse or child or parent. But most of his mind was directed at his task. If he didn't stop the wave, all of Rose's and the other rescuers' efforts would be in vain.

He'd already decided to give himself a fifteen-minute window. If he absolutely couldn't alter the power fast enough, he'd stop a quarter of an hour before the wave hit. There'd be time to usher the survivors inside the TARDIS and take them elsewhere until the wave had passed.

But he hoped to avoid that course of action. If he could just reroute this handful of cables, reconfigure the circuits to create an energy pulse that would attract a covalent bond, then the wave would naturally follow, bypassing the town by at least a mile.

He asked for the time again. Sixteen minutes until the hit. He made a series of rapid calculations in his head. He would require fourteen point six minutes to complete the work, plus or minus seven tenths of a second. Well, that could take it up to fifteen minutes and change… but that wasn't important. He'd be cutting it awfully close, but he felt certain that he would succeed. Yet if he didn't, if anything went wrong or even the tiniest bit not right, he'd be risking the entire town.

He glanced at the Prime, who hovered nervously across the room.

"I need fifteen minutes, and it's going to hit in just over sixteen. I can evacuate most of you or keep going. Your call."

The Prime shifted from one foot to the other. "You're sure you can do this?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yes."

"Then finish it. I want to save what's left of this town."

Without a second wasted on words, the Time Lord returned to his work.


	2. Chapter 2

As the Doctor labored feverishly at the power plant, Rose was hard at work, too. Freeing the child required her to push, pull, heave, and shove at the stones and thick timbers. But she persisted, and after a time she created an opening large enough for the boy to pass through. Gently she reached for his shoulders, pulling him slowly forward.

She was vaguely aware of shouting. Someone was calling out a warning, telling her to get out, to move away from the rubble because the next wave was coming… But she didn't acknowledge the frantic voice. Instead she focused on the boy, urging him on with encouraging words.

"But," he stammered, "why're they yelling?"

"Doesn't matter," she replied softly. "'S nothin' to worry about. I have this friend, an' he's takin' care of it."

Still, her body stiffened instinctually when she realized that everyone else had fled the ruined cathedral. She understood that it was time. Finally pulling the boy free, she shielded his small body with her own and waited for the impact.

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms tightly around the child. Somewhere, far away, she thought she heard the Doctor's voice saying her name. She almost smiled; he'd given her the entire universe, and even if her life were cut short, she'd seen more than any human deserved, and that was worth a lot. He was worth it all.

"Rose!" The voice echoed through the piles of stone and timber.

She opened her eyes and looked up. Nothing had changed. The ruins remained the same. She could see patches of starry sky through the gaping holes in the roof. Smiling broadly, Rose got to her knees. She hugged the child joyfully, saying, "Knew he'd manage it. You ready to get out of here?"

The little boy nodded gratefully. She could see blood staining his leg, so she lifted him into her arms, barely aware of the deep ache and fatigue quivering in her muscles. She picked her way through the debris, smiling again when she saw someone holding a lantern approaching her.

"Rose!" The lantern light bobbed cheerfully as the Doctor hurried toward her.

"You sorted it?" she asked, but the relieved grin on his face answered the question for her.

"Yep, all fixed. Shouldn't be any more waves for at least a thousand years, and by then these folk'll have figured out how to redirect them on their own."

He stood before her now, holding the lantern aloft so that its glow fell over her. "And who've you got here?" he asked, smiling at the child.

"Vond," the boy replied.

The Time Lord ruffled the child's hair. Keeping the smile on his face, he flicked his eyes to Rose. "You all right?"

She nodded. "His leg's hurt," she said, shifting Vond around a bit.

The Doctor hung the lantern on the edge of a pew and took the boy's calf gently in his hands. He moved aside the ripped trouser leg to reveal a deep, ugly gash. His fingers delicately probed around the wound.

"Well, that's not so bad," he said cheerily.

Rose gestured to the bag slung across her chest. "They gave me an emergency medical kit. Haven't done much with it but pull out a few bandages."

He nodded then rummaged about inside for a moment. "Here we are," he said, his smile never fading. He had removed a small spray bottle. He flipped up the cap. "This might feel just a little cold," he warned genially, then he sprayed the contents over the wound.

Vond flinched slightly but did not cry out.

"D'you want a bandage?" Rose asked.

Smile never wavering, the Doctor nodded. "That will definitely make it feel better."

Vond nodded somberly.

She handed the Time Lord a wrapped gauze pad and a roll of bandages. He removed the wrapper and carefully set the pad over the wound, then wound a length of bandaging material around it.

"There we are," he said amiably. "We'll let those nice folks at the hospital take over from here. They'll have you sorted in no time." He gave the child's hair another affectionate rub.

Rose shifted her arms again. The little boy was growing terribly heavy. The Doctor arched an eyebrow at her then took the child from her, managing to balance him securely against his hip with one arm. That left the other free to wrap around Rose's shoulder as they made their way out of the rubble together.

* * *

Vond had been taken to the small hospital, and the Doctor had been reassured by the Prime that there were sufficient medical staff to deal with the injured. Volunteers had come from surrounding towns to provide support and additional supplies. The town leader insisted that his heroic guests stay the night so that they could be thanked properly in the morning.

The TARDIS was nearly half a mile from the cathedral, and to Rose the distance seemed impossibly far. Now that the crisis had passed, deep fatigue was overwhelming her. So she was relieved when the Prime escorted them to a small, nearby hotel and quickly arranged a room—"the suite, of course"—for them.

The manager took them up two flights of stairs to their room, leading the way with a lantern. The power would remain off until morning; the redirected surge had fried most of the circuits temporarily. Rose regretted that just a bit as she dragged her feet up the stairs; she would have much preferred to use the lift.

The suite was spacious, with a sitting area, a large bath, and a huge bed. The manager lit candles and left an extra lantern and torch for his guests. When the door closed, the Doctor and Rose were left standing in the soft illumination. She sighed tiredly.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She ran a hand over her face, feeling the layers of grime. "Yeah. Long day, though." She shook her head. "D'you know how many died?"

"I'm not sure," he replied gravely, "but I know there were quite a few survivors. And I have a feeling that you were in part responsible for that. Did you spend the entire time in the cathedral?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

He smiled softly, a gesture of admiration, respect, and gratitude. "You're a mess," he said warmly, brushing his thumb over her dirty cheek.

She nodded then looked toward the bathroom. "Hope the hot water still works."

"It should. Heating here is gas-based."

Rose began shuffling toward the bath but paused to turn back. "Will Vond be okay? Was his leg badly hurt?"

The Doctor's expression sobered again. "There was vascular damage and considerable dirt in the wound; infection was already setting in. Medicine's not that advanced here—about equivalent to late twentieth-century Earth. He may lose the leg."

Rose's eyes suddenly felt hot. "Oh. Is there…" she began then shook the thought away, already knowing his answer.

"Is there what?" he asked gently.

She swallowed. "Don't s'pose there's anythin' you could do for him? I mean, you've got advanced equipment in the TARDIS, right?"

He smiled sadly. "It's best not to meddle in things like that. He'll be in good hands here, and whatever happens to him is what's meant to be."

She nodded and sniffed. "Yeah."

"Have a nice, long shower Rose, and I'll see if I can get us some tea and something to eat."

She turned away, wiping her hand over her eyes as she shambled into the bathroom.

In the candlelight, Rose had looked terrible. She was covered in soot, dust, and streaks of the victims' blood. He hadn't been able to see her face clearly, but he felt certain that she'd been pale beneath the layers of dirt. He'd been told that she had been inside the cathedral the entire time, working tirelessly to lead out the wounded. But that was his Rose, and that determination was what he loved about her.

He ordered tea and sandwiches, and when she emerged from the bath fifteen minutes later he was just setting the tray on the sitting area table.

"Tea's here," he said.

She walked slowly toward him. Her wet hair appeared dark in the low lights. Her skin was clean, and she was wrapped in the hotel's complimentary cozy terry robe. He lifted a teacup and offered it to her.

"Thanks." She took it and had a sip then set it back on the table.

"Sandwich?" he asked, taking up the plate.

She shook her head. "Maybe later. Right now I just wanna sleep." She walked slowly toward the bed.

The manager had brought two pairs of soft, silky pyjamas along with the tea, and the smaller set now lay across the duvet. Rose touched the embroidered crest on the pale blue shirt then shuffled off to the bath again to change.

The Doctor had finished a sandwich and begun on a second when she re-emerged. He watched her hobble to the bed then sink down with a deep sigh. Her eyes had closed before he could even wish her good night.

He waited a minute then walked to the bed, standing for a moment to watch her. She lay upon her side, one hand beside her cheek on the pillow. She was breathing slowly and softly; she was deeply asleep. He pulled the duvet over her then kicked off his shoes and removed his jacket. He realized that he was exhausted, too.

He lay down, the generous mattress providing ample space between him and Rose. He supposed that was best for propriety's sake. He slid his hands behind his head, gaze fixed on the ceiling as he watched the shadows created by the flickering candlelight. Eventually his eyes lowered and he drifted into a light slumber.

* * *

Rubble surrounded her, and dust billowed toward her in great clouds. It was enveloping her, entering her nose and mouth, choking her, but she had to keep going, keep moving the rubble away, because the little boy still lay under the massive pile…

His hand stretched toward her, fingers impossibly long and thin. And then she saw that all the flesh had withered away. He was a skeleton because she hadn't reached him in time. Yet still he groped for her, crying her name, and all around him other skeletal limbs clawed through the rock and wood, reaching for her, needing her, desperate for her help.

She didn't realize that she was sobbing until she felt the hot tears wash over her cheeks. She didn't realize, either, that the voices she heard weren't from the corpses until the Doctor's fingers slid through her hair and caressed her cheek.

"Sshh, Rose, it's all right. It's just a dream," he was saying, and his voice was gentle and soothing.

"Doctor?" she whispered, opening her eyes but seeing only darkness. "'S dark," she murmured, still trying to determine whether she were awake or asleep.

"Candles burned down. Do you want me to light them again?"

"No," she muttered, voice husky with half-sleep, "jus' wanna go back… to sleep."

"Yes. Sleep." His hand smoothed over her hair then ran down her shoulder and back up again.

She snuggled against him, muzzy and numb, and just before she drifted back into slumber she felt his arms gently envelop her as his lips brushed over her brow.

* * *

To be continued... 


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor awoke before dawn. Rose was still in his arms, her body warm against him. She was sleeping deeply; unconsciously he counted the subtle movements of her back each time she inhaled and exhaled. She had not dreamt again, and he was thankful for that. He'd been prepared to urge her into dreamless sleep using his own mind if necessary. She had seen enough suffering while awake; it wasn't right for the images to remain during slumber.

As the room gradually grew lighter, she began to stir. She made several small noises, and her respiration rate increased. He feared she was dreaming again. He held her a bit more securely, one arm around her waist and the other beneath her shoulder, squeezing her forearm gently with his hand. She seemed to wince, and a little moan escaped her.

"Rose?" he whispered, shifting so that he could prop himself up on his elbow and look down upon her.

Her face was pale in the shadowy light, and her brow was furrowed. She pulled her arm inward, and her breath hitched.

"Oh Rose," he murmured, seeing her face clearly now as the light increased. What he'd taken as shadows the night before were bruises and abrasions across her right cheek and forehead. Her hair must have obscured them, or perhaps the candlelight had created a similar shadowy illusion.

He sat up slowly, with controlled motions, so that he wouldn't awaken her. She still held her arm at a protective angle, cradling it against her side. Carefully he slid up the silky fabric of her sleeve to bare most of the limb. Several deep, darkly mottled bruises spread from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. He was certain he'd find more evidence of injury on her upper arm, but he hesitated to move her any further without awakening her. He might cause her more pain.

And she'd never said a thing—never complained or told him she was hurt. As his gaze moved over her carefully, he noted that several fingernails were raggedly torn and her hands were scraped and raw. A few light bloodstains peppered the front of her pyjama top. He wondered what other damage lay beneath the fine fabric.

The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment, remorse and guilt flooding him. He hadn't even thought to ask her if she was hurt. He'd seen how tired she was; how she had refused food when he knew she hadn't eaten in hours and hours; and how stiffly and slowly she'd moved across the room.

He was marginally comforted when he recalled that she'd slept soundly with the exception of the nightmare. She'd shown no evidence of pain in her sleep; her heart had beaten normally, and her respiration had been even. Her body had been neither abnormally cold nor warm beneath the hands he'd rested over her during the night. He supposed that was something. Still, she was clearly in some discomfort now, so it was time to wake her.

He ran the back of his hand over her uninjured cheek, saying her name softly. She seemed to mumble something, then she opened her eyes to blink at the brightness of the early light.

"Good morning," he said with a forced smile.

"Mor—" her voice cracked. "Mornin'," she managed.

He moved his hand to her other cheek, resting his thumb softly just below the deepest abrasion. "Why didn't you tell me you'd been hurt?" he asked gently.

Her own hand rose to touch her face; she winced. "I don't remember."

"You don't remember why you didn't tell me?"

She shook her head. "No. Don't remember this happenin'."

His fingers brushed over her bruised arm. "How about this?"

She glanced down and frowned. "I'm not—oh, I think that was when I was tryin' to get to Vond." Her voice rasped with the final words, and she coughed lightly.

"I'll get you some water," he said, sliding from the bed to hurry toward the bath. He filled a glass and returned to her side, handing it to her.

Rose began to push herself up, but she gasped, face twisting in pain as an arm wrapped protectively about her side. He quickly set the glass on the bedside table and helped her to lie back against the soft pillows.

"Wow," she said with some surprise, "that really hurt."

"I'm sorry," he responded. His hands moved to the buttons on her top, deftly undoing all but the highest one.

She was watching him with a curious expression but didn't say anything. Her eyes moved down as he spread the soft fabric to the sides to reveal her stomach and ribcage. Several jagged scratches marred the area over her ribs; one ran down nearly to her hipbone. A large bruise bloomed deeply purple over her left side. The Doctor's eyes had widened momentarily. He lifted his hand but did not touch her.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked.

"I didn't know," she replied, honesty clear in her tone.

Now he lowered his hand to rest very lightly beneath the bruise. "You didn't feel any pain?"

"Not really. Yesterday I was, I dunno, sorta numb, yeah? It was like I just had to help those people, then get Vond out, an' then it's all sorta a blur after that."

He sighed. He should have guessed sooner. "You were in shock, Rose."

"Shock?"

He nodded. "Not the entire time, of course. While you were in the cathedral, I think your body was pumping adrenaline at full force, and that kept you from feeling pain. But after that, after it was all said and done, you probably began to experience some degree of shock, and that has numbing effects, too."

"Huh," she acknowledged. Then a small smile played at her lips. "Is there any way to get it back?"

He blinked at her. "To get what back?"

"The shock. 'Cause this is startin' to hurt like hell."

He stood again and retrieved the emergency medical kit from the desk where Rose had left it. He sat beside her again, opening the bag and inspecting the contents for several moments before looking up at her. "I'll give you something for the pain in a few minutes; there're a couple of options here."

Her brow wrinkled, and her lips pursed; for just an instant she looked like a child. "I think now'd be better."

He nodded sympathetically. "I know it hurts, but I need to see what sort of damage has been done before I can determine which analgesic will work best. We need to avoid potentially adverse reactions."

"Oh." She sighed. "Get on with it then."

He set the bag on the night table and reached for his jacket, which he'd draped over the foot board the previous night. He retrieved his sonic screwdriver, then did a scan of her torso. He didn't realize how worried he'd been until he felt the relief flooding him.

"No signs of significant internal injury or serious fractures," he reported.

"That's good," she responded; she sounded a little relieved, too.

"Yep." He forced a casual note into his voice and a smile across his face. "But I think there's some bruising or possibly a hairline fracture or two to the ribs. I need to have a better look."

She glanced at the sonic screwdriver again. "Go ahead."

"For this you get me," he said. He arched an eyebrow at her in an attempt at humour, then lifted his hand to waggle his fingers. He rested the hand lightly just above her hip.

She looked at his hand warily. "Screwdriver can't tell you any of that?"

"Nope. Sometimes good, old-fashioned methods are best for subtle things." He moved his hand up an inch or so, waiting until she was ready.

"Hhn. That's your fightin' hand," she said. He thought she was trying to stall.

"Yep. But it's good for lots of other things, too."

She finally gave a small nod that he took for consent. Carefully he slid his hand up, allowing his sensitive fingers to perceive any irregularities in her ribs. She lay still until he reached the bruise. As his fingertip brushed over the edge, she flinched.

"Take a slow, deep breath," he advised.

She did, but he could feel the significant increase in her heart rate in the pulsing artery near his hand. That wouldn't do at all; he refused to inflict any more pain upon her. He hesitated to give her a sedative until he knew the full extent of her injuries. He wouldn't risk any bad reactions. But she needed something…

He lifted his left hand swiftly and placed his fingertips against her temple and cheek. "Sleep, Rose," he instructed gently.

For an instant her eyes widened, then they closed, and within a few seconds her breathing slowed. Assured that she would feel nothing more, the Doctor continued his assessment.

The ribs beneath the deep contusion were bruised but not broken. He would be able to heal them quickly once he and Rose were back in the TARDIS. For now, he would give her some pain medication to keep her comfortable.

He'd found several pre-measured, labeled syringes in the bag, and he removed the appropriate one and administered the contents to Rose. Then he busied himself with the wicked scratches across her ribs and abdomen. He cleaned each carefully and covered the deepest one with a bandage. That done, he moved on to her cheek. He would be certain to run the dermal regenerator over the abrasions to ensure that she would be left without any scars. For the moment, however, wiping them with antiseptic was the best he could do.

He ran his fingers over her cheek to be sure the bone wasn't damaged, then he checked both of her arms. The bruises were nasty, but there was no underlying injury. He rolled Rose gently onto her stomach so that he could check her back. He found several lighter bruises and scrapes there.

After treating them, he shifted her onto her back again then slid up the loose legs of her pyjamas so that he could inspect her legs for damage. Both knees were badly bruised and abraded, and she had a dozen or so scratches and scrapes on her shins and thighs. As he cleaned each in turn, his sense of guilt grew.

His wonderful, warm, generous, and brave companion lay injured before him, and it was his fault. He'd brought her here, allowed her to go to the cathedral, smack dab into the midst of the damage… And the potential dangers there went far beyond sharp stones and timbers that could jab and bruise and scratch. What if a wall had crumbled further, or the remaining bits of roof had fallen? She could have been seriously hurt or worse.

He wiped an antiseptic pad over her knee, his thumb running over the undamaged skin below. Each contusion and abrasion was a reminder of his own carelessness, of the way he'd treated all of his companions. How many bruises had they sustained without his knowledge?

Rose began to stir. He'd finished with her legs, so he readjusted her pyjama bottoms and stood to dispose of the used wipes and syringe. As her eyes began to open, he pulled the duvet up over her and steeled himself for the difficult conversation to come.

* * *

To be continued... 


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Rose felt when she woke was relief. The last thing she remembered was pain, and now that had subsided to nothing more than a vague ache. She dug back into her recent memories a bit more to recall that the Doctor had been checking her ribs, and it had hurt. Had she fallen asleep or passed out or something?

She opened her eyes to find the Doctor sitting beside her. He was smiling, but his brow looked tight and his expression forced.

"What's the matter?" she asked immediately.

He shook his head. "Nothing, Rose. How are you feeling?"

"Better." She glanced down to see that her pyjama top was buttoned again, and the duvet was pulled up over her hips. She touched her side gingerly. She could feel a bandage taped over her flank. "You all finished?"

"For now. I'll sort everything completely once we're back in the TARDIS."

She ran her fingers over her ribs. "It doesn't hurt much now."

"Good—painkiller's working well."

"Did it make me sleep?" she asked, looking back up at his face.

He hesitated just a moment before responding. "Not exactly."

A small frown crossed her features. "What d'you mean?"

He sighed. "I gave you a little nudge—encouraged you to sleep."

Automatically her hand moved up to touch her temple. She remembered that he'd placed his fingers just there… "Why'd you do that to me?"

"I didn't want you to feel any pain."

She thought that his expression reflected guilt and sadness. "'S all right," she said softly. "I don't mind."

"Normally I wouldn't do that without your permission, and I'm sorry, I should've asked first, but I was hurting you, and that wasn't right, but I needed to check—"

She lifted her hand to rest it over his lips. "I don't mind," she repeated.

He took her hand in his, lowering it to rest at her hip. "Rose, I—" However, his attention was captured by her fingers, and he lifted her hand again to study it.

She saw that her nails were ragged and raw, and her hand was a mass of scrapes and scratches.

"Should've sorted this, too," he said, clearly distracted from his earlier train of thought.

He reached for a packaged antiseptic wipe among the items strewn out on the night table then carefully dabbed at the scratches.

Despite the pain medication, Rose felt a light stinging. She sucked in a breath.

He looked up, eyebrows knitting together in mild distress. "Am I hurting you?"

"Just stings a little, but it's fine."

"You sure? There's a spritz or two of that numbing agent left, I think—"

"'S all right. Now if you could offer me a manicure, I wouldn't say no to that." She grinned.

To her surprise, he did not grin back. Instead he shook his head and ran the tip of his thumb over one broken nail. "Rose, this should never have happened."

"Was sorta hard to avoid, what with all the stuff I had to clear away—"

"No, that's not what I mean." He lowered her hand again. "I put you in a dangerous situation, and you were hurt because of it."

"Yeah. So what else is new?"

"That's the point. It's not new, it's not a fluke. It's what I do to you all the time. And it's not right."

"What're you on about?"

She saw him inhale then exhale slowly as he tugged absently at his earlobe. He gazed at her intently for a moment then quickly looked away. "It's time for it to stop, for you to be safe again."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"It means that I'm not going to put you in harm's way anymore."

"But that's what we do," she reminded him, recalling all of the situations they'd faced together.

And hadn't they ended up running for their lives, laughing with relief when they reached the safety of the TARDIS, most of those times? The rush of elation she'd felt as they dashed through those blue doors made her more alive than she'd ever hoped to be.

He stood abruptly. "I'm going to get the TARDIS. I'll bring her here so you won't have to walk very far."

He was already striding toward the door. His back was to her, so she couldn't see his face.

"Doctor?" she asked, a knot of worry slowly building in her gut. "What are you plannin' to do?"

"Whatever it takes to keep you safe."

With that, he stepped out the door.

Rose sat very still, pondering his words. He'd been awfully serious, no hint of jocularity in his tone or expression. Usually once the danger had passed he was all laughs and smiles. And the danger had passed; all the survivors had been rescued, and the Doctor had prevented any more damage. So she couldn't imagine what had left him so grim. Well, she'd have a talk with him when he returned. She was sure she could cheer him and bring the grin back to his face.

A low buzzing seemed to reverberate through her head. Rose blinked in confusion then stumbled from the bed.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor landed the ship in an alley behind the hotel. He'd been gone about fifteen minutes, which he hoped had given Rose time to consider the wisdom of his words. And they were wise and prudent, he reiterated to himself._Whatever it takes to keep you safe_.

Yet the mere thought of them caused a tightness in his chest. Still, it couldn't be helped;

there was only one way to ensure her safety fully, and it meant that she couldn't stay with him.

He climbed the stairs then opened the door to the suite. "TARDIS's in the alley, just downstairs," he said.

There was no response. His gaze scanned the room. "Rose?" he called, hurrying toward the bath. It was empty. The bedclothes were rumpled, the duvet half on the floor. A quick search of the rest of the suite revealed that she'd shed the pyjamas and donned her own clothes again. But where had she gone?

He looked out the window; there was no sign of her on the street. He called the front desk to find that the manager had stepped away for a few minutes so had not seen Rose leave.

His eyes locked on the rubbish bin. The empty syringe lay atop the used antiseptic wipes. The dosage had been for emergency usage, intended to last only until the victim could be evaluated by fully trained medics. The painkiller would be wearing off by now. Had she become disoriented from her discomfort? Worse yet, had she sustained some other injury that he hadn't detected? He hadn't checked her for concussion—what an utter git! She could easily have hit her head amid all those beams and jagged stones. Perhaps she was wandering through the town, confused and aching, possibly stumbling toward the ruined cathedral, which was unsafe even now…

The Doctor turned on his heel and ran out of the room. He had to find Rose. He couldn't bear to lose her, not even for a minute.

* * *

Rose's eyes stung with tears. However, she kept the smile firmly on her face. She had to be strong, to maintain a cheerful façade, because there had already been so much pain, such suffering, and if she could stave those off for even a few minutes then that was what she would do.

She sat rigidly. Her ribs ached fiercely, and every muscle in her body felt tight and sore. She wasn't looking forward to standing or moving again. Perhaps it was lucky that she was sitting down. She'd begun to feel a little dizzy as she walked out of the hotel and through the streets. Dust and smoke still hung heavily in the air, and she'd coughed more than once in the wake of the fine debris.

Her legs had seemed to carry her of their own volition, maintaining a steady, if slow, pace even as vague vertigo washed over her. She supposed that there had been other people about, but now she could barely remember.

For just an instant she'd felt relief as she sank down, legs finally succumbing to the exhaustion and pain resulting from severely overusing the muscles. But her relief had been tempered immediately by the sight before her.

Blinking back the tears, Rose continued to smile woodenly as she held the cold little hand in hers and smoothed the blanket over the body lying beside her.

* * *

The Doctor hurried through the streets, stopping nearly everyone who passed to ask if they'd seen Rose. The community was abuzz with activity as the uninjured residents worked to help their wounded neighbors. There were graves to be dug, too, and many funerals and memorials to arrange. Repairing damaged homes and buildings was a priority as well, though enough had been spared the wave's force to provide shelter for those remaining.

So the Doctor's concern for one young woman was not necessarily shared by those to whom he inquired. Few knew that she had been instrumental in the rescue efforts, and even those to whom he mentioned it had other things on their minds.

He made his way to the collapsed cathedral. During the night barricades had been erected around the ruins, but there were no guards posted, and the area was relatively deserted. He wondered if all of the dead had been removed…

Ducking under a barricade, the Doctor walked toward the wreckage. Three walls still stood, though they were crumbling and gaping with jagged holes. He could see that more of the roof had fallen in during the night. Approaching the wall, he called, "Rose?"

His voice echoed eerily through the dust and rubble. He waited, but there was no response.

"Get away from there!" a male voice instructed rather urgently.

The Doctor turned to see a lone officer approaching him. "I'm looking for my friend," he said rather lamely.

"All right, but you've got to move back. It's not safe anywhere near the building."

The Time Lord complied somewhat reluctantly.

"Was she in the church?" asked the officer, his voice growing tender with sympathy.

"Yes—I mean no, she wasn't there when the wave hit, but she went in afterwards and spent hours and hours helping the victims."

The officer nodded. "Lots of people helped out. But there's no one inside now—at least no one living."

"She may have come back here," the Doctor replied. "I need to look around—"

The officer reached for his arm. "I've been here since sunrise. No one's gone in or come out since then."

"You sure? I didn't see you when I arrived."

"I was over there," he gestured to the far side of the cathedral. "I saw you come up."

The Doctor stood stiffly for a moment, eyes raking over the ruins. Then his hands dropped limply to his sides. "I don't know where she is."

"I'm sure she'll turn up."

"But she could be hurt, possibly confused due to a head injury."

"Then she's probably been taken to the hospital. You know where that is?"

The Doctor nodded slowly. "Have there been any reports? Has anyone collapsed or been disoriented?"

"Yeah, sure. Situation like this, it always catches up to people. But I don't have any names or even descriptions. You'll have to check at the hospital."

"Yes, all right." The Time Lord turned away from the ruins.

"I'm sure you'll find her." The Doctor's expression must have bordered on bereft, because the officer rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze, saying gently, "Don't worry, it's not as if she's gone for good."

Both hearts clenched painfully in the Doctor's chest at the last four words. He felt utterly empty and alone without her.


	6. Chapter 6

Rose trudged through the hospital hallway, oblivious to the people who milled about nearby. Voices drifted over her, yet the words were meaningless. She would have sat indefinitely holding Vond's hand, but after he'd drifted off to sleep someone had shooed her away.

The air felt thick and cloying, and her stomach turned slightly at the pungent smells all around her. Her head felt thick, too, and the dizziness was returning. She was sore and tired, but she was still glad she'd come. Of course she hadn't been able to say no when the Prime's aide had rung her at the hotel, telling her that the boy was asking for her. Still, she wouldn't decline a little lie-down if someone offered…

She saw the doorway ahead and continued moving toward it. The environment inside really was making her gut twist and turn, and for a moment she thought she'd be sick, but the building nausea subsided slightly once she stepped outside into the fresh air.

She inhaled deeply, wincing at the surge of pain this brought to her ribs. Her legs were shaky now, threatening to betray her and send her straight to the ground, dumping her unceremoniously on her bum. That wouldn't do at all; that was the last place she wanted another bruise. Her lips almost quirked into a smile at the thought of the Doctor trying to have a look at that one.

She had placed a hand against the wall to steady herself. She half slid down the wall, managing to land without any bruising force. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms about them, resting her head against her knees.

The wooziness abated somewhat, so Rose decided to remain in this new position for a little while, just until she felt stronger. Then she'd return to the hotel and find the Doctor. There was something she'd meant to discuss with him, wasn't there?

He'd made some comment about keeping her safe. He'd been upset with her for getting injured… Now she remembered. What had he meant, though, about not putting her in harm's way anymore? It was rather hard to avoid peril with the sort of traveling that they did.

"Oh!" The force of the thought struck her physically, and she lifted her head. Her vision blurred, and it took her a moment to realize that her eyes had filled with tears again. He was planning to take her home.

"Rose!" As if on cue, the Doctor's voice floated toward her, distant and shallow but still recognizable.

She blinked and rubbed a hand over her eyes, and suddenly he was before her, gripping her shoulders lightly.

"I've been worried about you!" he was saying. "Are you all right?"

She sniffed. "No."

"Of course you aren't," he responded quickly. He cupped her chin and lifted her head, peering into her eyes. "Pupils are equal and reactive, that's good. But still, there could be something..." His hand moved to the back of her head, fingers gently probing.

She pushed the hand away. "That's not what's wrong," she snapped, hurt fueling her sense of indignance.

"Are you in a great deal of pain? The analgesic's worn off by now, or nearly so. But I'll give you something as soon as we get back to the TARDIS."

She looked up at him. "An' after that?"

"I'll sort your injuries, have you back to rights in no time."

"An' then?" Her lower lip was quivering, but she didn't even bother to try to stop it.

"You could probably do with another shower—those clothes've got you dirty all over again."

"An' while I'm showerin'," she said, voice quavering, "you'll be programmin' the TARDIS, right?"

He nodded. "Right."

"An' it never occurred to you to ask me, to see what I thought about it? Because it's my life, Doctor, an' I have a right to decide what happens to me."

He was leaning in, trying to see her eyes again, and his hand had snaked back up to rest against the pulse point in her neck. She wriggled away, wrenching her body sideways then stumbling to her feet.

"Maybe you should jus' leave me here," she said. She wanted to storm off, but dizziness crashed through her, and she began to fall to her knees.

Immediately the Doctor's arms were around her. "Easy, Rose. It's all right," he soothed.

"No, it's not!" she cried.

"Everything will be fine," he reiterated, holding her securely. "We just need to get back to the TARDIS—"

"No," she said. Hot, angry tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her chest was terribly heavy, yet still she managed to choke out, "I don't wanna be left behind."

His face blurred before her, but she heard him sigh. "Can you walk?" he asked.

She had to prove to him that she was strong, that she didn't need to be kept safe back on Earth with her mum. So Rose took a deep breath and forced a little strength back into her legs. "Yeah, 'course," she murmured.

He kept his arm securely about her waist, careful to avoid the sore areas. They walked slowly, and neither spoke for several minutes. Rose was concentrating on the simple task of moving her legs and keeping her body upright. If she could just show him that she was all right, maybe he'd change his mind.

Finally he asked, "Why did you leave the hotel, Rose?"

Her throat was tight, but she swallowed and managed to croak out, "Got a call—Vond wanted to see me."

"And you went?" Before she could respond, he answered for her. "Of course you did. How's he doing?"

"Leg's been amputated—jus' like you said. So many wounded, they didn't have time to do anythin' else, nurse told me. He was visitin' his gran—she didn't make it outta the cathedral—an' his parents live a long way from here, but they're comin'." The succinct explanation was the best she could do at the moment.

She felt the Doctor's arm tighten fractionally. She knew he was looking at her, trying to get her to look back at him, but she resolutely kept her gaze straight ahead. She didn't want to see his face because she knew she'd find pity there—pity for her weakness, for her stupid human injuries.

Despite her rather valiant efforts at fortitude, Rose was leaning heavily against the Doctor by the time they neared the hotel. She was both relieved and disappointed to know that the TARDIS lay just around the corner. She really was in physical pain, so the thought of a reprieve from the constant aching and dizziness was quite appealing. Yet the knowledge that this would likely be the last time she entered the ship weighed heavily upon her mind.

Perhaps it was this train of thought that distracted her from the all-important mechanics of walking. Before she realized it, her toe hit some small object in the street and she stumbled, falling out of the Time Lord's grasp. She landed heavily upon her hands and knees.

"Rose! I'm sorry." He was down beside her immediately, taking her arms to help her to rise.

However, her legs had ideas of their own and refused her commands. The abrupt change in position had jarred her ribs, too, and pain seared through her. Her vision clouded; for a few moments everything began to grow dark. She realized that she was about to faint.

But only stupid, weak humans fainted, and she refused to give in to that. She took a sharp, ragged breath and shook her head as she tried to get to her feet. She felt the Doctor's hands steadying her, but she managed to twist away.

"'M fine," she muttered.

She made it half-way to an upright position and promptly collapsed into his waiting arms.

The next few minutes were a blur. She was aware that he lifted her completely and carried her perhaps fifty steps. Then she felt the gentle, distinctive hum of the time ship and knew that he'd taken her inside. She opened her eyes a little and saw the beautiful, arching columns and struts overhead. The thought that she would never see them again was unbearably sad.

Her chest was heavy again, and her eyes were burning. She felt as though she were floating, yet some small part of her realized that the Doctor was still carrying her with infinite care, keeping his steps impossibly steady so that her bruised body wouldn't be jostled, so that he wouldn't cause her any more pain.

But she knew his efforts were futile. Because he was going to take her home, to leave her behind, and that would hurt more than any physical injury ever could.

She stopped floating. Her body was still now, steady and secure on a firm yet soft surface. Something cool brushed over her cheek, and she felt the wetness from her tears.

"Oh Rose," the Doctor said softly, tenderly, "I'm sorry. I'm going to get you something for the pain right now."

She shook her head weakly. "Won't help," she whispered.

"Shush now, of course it will. Didn't I ever mention that I know a little something about medicine?"

She thought he might be smiling, but she couldn't bear to see it. Better that she keep the memory of his sterner expressions; that might make things just a bit easier.

He touched her wrist, and she heard a soft, quick whoosh. Immediately the throbbing in her ribs and limbs ceased, and without thinking Rose opened her eyes in relief.

"Better?" He was leaning over her, watching her face.

"Yeah, s'pose so," she conceded. The medicine, of course, did nothing for the aching in her heart.

She lay quietly while he opened her shirt and ran some sort of device over the bruises, then used another instrument on the scratches marring her abdomen and face.

"I can do your legs, too," he said, "but I'll need to remove your jeans."

She gave a wan shrug which he seemed to take as an affirmative reply. He busied himself with her clothing then with the injuries for a few minutes.

"Those were the worst of them," he told her, setting a blanket over her legs. He pulled up a stool and sat beside her, taking her right hand. He ran a small beam of pale green light over the scrapes, then moved on to her left hand.

"There we are," he said, offering her a rather tight grin. "Do you feel better?"

She almost snorted sardonically at that. "What d'you think?" she retorted.

He blinked at her. "Pain should be gone, unless I missed something."

She rested her hand over her heart. "Yeah," she said softly, "think you did."

He stared at her hand for a moment then reached back to the counter for a stethoscope. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize—" he began, adjusting the instrument in his ears.

When he attempted to press it against her chest, she pushed his hand away. "You can't fix it with anythin' in here," she said. Her throat was growing tight once more. She shook her head and closed her eyes before the tears began again.

_To be concluded in the next chapter._


	7. Chapter 7

The Doctor sat still for a few moments, watching as Rose shut her eyes and turned her head away from him. He felt the coolness of metal against his hand and set the stethoscope aside. He didn't need it to understand why her heart was aching. He knew what ailed her, because his hearts hurt, too.

He saw a tear seep from her eye and slide softly down her pale cheek. The pain she was feeling now was his doing, as much as the injuries her body sustained had been.

"I never want to see you hurt," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "But that's what happens; it's what I always seem to bring."

Her saw her exhale and heard the breath leave her body slowly as she turned over to face him. "No," she said.

"It's true, Rose. Pain and death follow me."

"Yeah, sometimes." She blinked at the tears. "But that's not your fault. Yesterday you saved the rest of the town; they probably all would've died if you weren't there."

"It's what I do—what I've always done," he replied. "But you shouldn't have to be hurt in the process."

"I wasn't hurt that badly, an' it's all sorted now," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "You shouldn't have been hurt at all."

He was surprised when she gripped his hand. Her skin felt cool. "But if I hadn't been there, Vond probably would've died. I mean, I know there were a lot of other people helpin' out, but maybe no one would've found him in time. An' if gettin' a couple of bruises an' scrapes is the price for savin' a child's life, I'm happy to pay it. It was my choice to go into the cathedral. I knew it might be dangerous. But it's what I do—it's what makes _my_ life worthwhile now." Her hand tightened around his.

He opened his mouth to offer some rebuttal, some brilliant words that would convince her that traveling with him was too dangerous, presented too many opportunities for peril… But her own words echoed through his mind. She'd saved a child, and probably a dozen more victims. This wasn't the first time, either. Rose was always ready to leap in, through thick and thin, with a helpful hand and a willing heart. Those were the qualities that had drawn him to her the first time they met; those were the qualities that had made him ask her to come with him.

"But I could lose you," he began, voicing the crux of his argument.

"Yeah," she agreed, "you could. An' I could lose you—already did once. But that's part of the package, isn't it? An' even if it did happen, I wouldn't have any regrets. The things I've done an' seen…" She blinked back fresh tears.

"I know," he acknowledged softly, his thumb running over her hand. He leaned forward and opened his arms to her.

Rose slid up into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and held her for a long time. When he finally pulled back, he saw her clear gaze upon him.

"We okay?" she asked, her expression very serious.

He nodded. "Mostly."

She frowned. "What's that mean?"

"Well," he drawled, a smile twitching at his lips, "you, Rose Tyler, are in rather desperate need of a change of clothes." He made a show of dusting off his hands.

She poked him affectionately in the arm. "Git."

He rubbed at the spot, offering her a mock frown. "What's that for?"

"I think you know." She slid off the exam couch, but she wavered as soon as her feet touched the floor.

He took her arms gently. "Still dizzy?"

He sensed that she was reluctant to respond, but finally she nodded. "Yeah, a little."

"Hmm. That's what you get for going without food and water for, oh, how long's it been? At least twenty-four hours." He helped her back up onto the table then retrieved a pressure hypo from one of the drawers, inserting the appropriate vial. He pressed the hypo over her arm.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Little nutrient and hydration boost—enough to get you through a good, long shower. And when you're finished, I'm going to make you a proper meal."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Thought you wanted to keep me safe," she said.

"Of course I do, as much as possible."

"An' you think eatin' your cookin' is a _good _way to do that?" she quipped.

"Oi! I make a mean spaghetti Bolognese!

She smiled at him, a genuine and joyful grin. "If you say so. S'pose it'll just be one more adventure."

She scooted down from the table again and walked steadily toward the door. He watched her, full of infinite gladness that she was safe and here with him. He knew that someday things would change, but for now he could accept the potential dangers from aliens, atmospheric implosions, and the like. They were no more threatening than the possibility of gaping holes in his hearts and soul.

_Fin_


End file.
